Newcomer
by Typeread5955
Summary: <html><head></head>...At the newsstand, plastered all over the latest edition of that goddamn "Witch Weekly", was my face.  Harry Potter and Mysterious Beau Head Out to Leaky Cauldron.  Seriously?   All characters  c  J.K. Rowling with exception to OC</html>
1. Chapter 1

_*All HP characters (minus OC's) belong to J.K. Rowling.*_

I often wondered how I managed to find myself in a situation like these. It seemed like just yesterday the tall, raven-haired bespectacled boy and I met. And now...

Well.

I surveyed my surroundings with a sort of smug satisfaction. We had caused a lot of damage in a small space. A full force hurricane ripping through exactly 138.5 square feet of space. By the door, the beautiful clay bottle-green lamp I had made (without magic, I growled internally, he would pay for that) lay shattered, its wire innards poking through like fingers trying to escaped packed earth. The ivory lampshade, bruised and broken, lay several inches away. The thick, smoky grey drapes, heavily askew, allowed a fraction of early morning sunlight into the room. The small particles of dust swirled around in the line of light, glimmering like a thousand tiny diamonds, dancing gently with each breath that was exhaled. A few pictures and paintings hung crookedly above the bed. I stifled a giggle; the inhabitants of each frame looked moodily down at me, obviously displeased with their current gravities. Clothes we strewn haphazardly across the rich espresso colored floor. A jumble of cobalt, khaki, black, cream, burgundy, heather gray. I inhaled deeply, the whispering lingers of musk, my own floral notes, and his deep earthy ones filled my brain.  
>I looked to my left, admiring the warm body lying next to me. The strong, slight stubble of the jaw, tanned torso, the scarred hand and forehead. One more inhale, and I shook the covers from my frame, feather-light, so not to disturb him. Stretching felt fantastic; I clasped my hands together over my head, reaching towards the ceiling, my curls cascading down my back and front. I looked behind me, getting off the bed, to make sure I hadn't disturbed him. I hadn't. The hot water beat an unfamiliar symphony over my skull and body. It felt wonderful, I was thrilled he'd purchased a new shower head, I had grown tired of the solitary spray that had been here before, with its dripping lower half and sadistic temperature swings. The perfume of the night before washed down the drain, leaving me revitalized. And starving. I shut the water off; thoughts of a lavish breakfast filled my head. Getting dressed in the majority of the previous evenings clothing, I made my way to the kitchen, shaking my head at how sad and cramped the flat's kitchen was. It was depressing. A tiny sink that could hold anything larger than a few plates, a stove the size of a baking sheet and small, though quite well-made cabinets. I rummaged through them, growing hungrier in anticipation, only to be disappointed. There was nothing to make a delicious (and well-deserved, I might add) breakfast. Slightly irritated, I allowed the cabinet door to slam harder than I had intended. I heard him give a sleepy sigh. Damn. I should be quieter. My stomach gave a growl like a full grown dragon; no time to lose. Quickly going over to the door, I paused, long enough to yank on my shoes and grab the closet article of clothing resembling outerwear, and headed out into the still unfamiliar world that was Diagon Alley. The hustle and bustle still managed to take my breath away. I still couldn't get used to the feeling that everywhere I went, I was being watched. It hadn't been like this, back home. America. I missed the small beach side house I grew up in, with acres sand in which to lose myself. The wizarding community I had grown up with was minuscule compared to my current dwelling. London wasn't much to my liking; loud, smelly, crowded. Never being in a city before now surely didn't help matters. I longed for the scent of clean tang of the salty air, the wide open beaches, the squawking of the seagulls. Here, the only thing squawking were the wizarding vendors, inches from me, boasting their wares to passersby, then staring, mouths slightly agape when I turned to politely smile, no thank you. At the newsstand, plastered all over the latest edition of that goddamn "Witch Weekly", was my face. <strong>Harry Potter and Mysterious Beau Head Out to Leaky Cauldron. <strong>Seriously? Eager to get out of the now staring crowd; witches openly nudging one another and pointing at me, I ducked into Filop's Foods.

_*A/N - Sorry for the lack of length; I'm new to this! Reviews are most helpful! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Filop's was the first store I'd ever walked into in Diagon Alley. I had just arrived off the Knight Bus, my bag heavy and my pockets heavier. That damn driver, Ernie he said his name was, made me spill hot chocolate all over myself. Slightly flustered, I pulled my wand out to vanish the stain, when I was nearly toppled over by some moron. He made a grab for my shoulders, spun me around and whispered "Please, just stand there and let me blend in." I nearly punched his lights out, but the look in his eyes, pleading with me, stopped me from doing so. A thick cluster of young teenage girls flew past, shouting things like "Where did he go?" "He looked at me! HE LOOKED AT ME!" "Where's my quill? I'll die if I don't get him to sign my bag!" As the cluster passed us, his hold on my shoulders loosened. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Just a little longer. Please." he said, very quietly. I hardly heard him over the clamor. He pulled me, gently towards the Fancy Foods shop and went inside.

A dumpy looking witch, more than sixty bustled out to greet us. "Oh hello Harry dear! So nice to see you again! I'm so sorry, you just missed Filop! He's gone off to find something, heaven knows what! I've just made some bread, would you like some -" she stopped speaking when her eyes met mine. "Uh, hi." I offered lamely, not knowing what else to say. I'm sure it looked rather strange, my confused face as this dolt dragged me behind him into some shop I'd never even noticed. "But Harry, you didn't tell me you were bringing a guest by! Please dear, excuse my manners! I'm Fanny, Filop's wife, welcome! Would you like something to drink while you shop? Tea perhaps? Feel free to fill a basket, it's on the house today. Any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours." She smiled warmly, then pulled out her wand and a cup of tea came soaring at me. I took the cup, relieved that Harry Whatever His Name Was let go of me. "Thank you. It smells very nice." She strolled off towards the back of the shop, calling out "I'll bring you out some of the fresh bread Harry dear!" The boy, Harry, rolled his eyes, grinning. He stopped when he glanced in my direction. "I uh, supposed I should explain myself for earlier. I'm sorry." I suppose I looked rather haughty at that point, because he gave an embarrassed sort of grin and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. My haughtiness melted, for the situation he was in made him all the more charming. He looked at me, with his gorgeous deep green eyes. They reminded me of the waves on the beach at home. "I suppose I have no right asking you for another favor, but is there any way I could thank you for what you did for me out there? Y'know, the whole hiding me thing we just went through?" I looked at him, slightly abashed, my mind racing, yelling at me, _say yes, you idiot! _His face fell slightly at my hesitation, crestfallen. His brow puckered as the seconds ticked by, a reddish hue tingeing his handsome face. Clearly, he wasn't used to this. I reached out to grasp a basked handle, giving me some more time to think. Finally I opened my mouth, smiling as he glanced upward. "What did you have in mind?" I pulled the basket into my arms, distracting myself for a moment, and then looking round the shop I had been pulled in to, not bothering to pay attention the words he was saying.

The shop was breathtaking. Bins of dried herbs along one wall, an entire area devoted to teas, meats strung up on the back wall, encased in crystalline blocks of ice. Fresh loaves of bread, still steaming slightly, fogged the windows under the register counter, while spices, cheeses and handmade ropes of pasta were tucked away on small tables. The hold it had upon me was amazing. "It's just like my grandparent's shop at home," I murmured to myself, closing my eyes and inhaling the sweet aromas of the store. My eyes opened, and he was staring at me. "Sorry," I mumbled foolishly, "I didn't hear what you said." He laughed a little when I said this, quietly. "I asked if you would like to go out with me for dinner. I know it's sort of, well, forward, but I definitely owe you. Besides, it's, unusual for most people to ignore what I say," he finished, shrugging. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, since there was a wry smile on his face. I looked at him, curiously, what did he mean by that? "Alright. I'll go with you to dinner, but I think it's only fair we exchange names, so at least I know more than just the first part of yours." He stuck his hand out, "Deal." Our hands clasped, and shook. I felt a surge of hot electricity through my body the moment our hands touched. I pulled away quickly, startled. "My name's Ava, Ava Smith," I smiled, "It's nice to meet you, Harry..." He looked at me, his brow pinched again as he said "Potter. Harry Potter." Where had I heard that name before? It sounded familiar, like the songs I used to listen to with my parents when I was younger; knowing the tune, but not quite remembering the words. Then it hit me. The green eyes, the jet black hair, the mob of girls chasing him earlier. _The _Harry Potter. I stared at him in the most unflattering way possible, clutching the nearly forgotten basket in my hands. His eyes glazed steeling himself, worried I might start shrieking his name. "No...wait! I'm not going to do anything stupid like that. I'm... surprised." Disbelief flashed over his features and I continued, "Really. I'm, well, I guess, surprised I met you here. Of all places. Of all the people to meet my first day in London." I gave a small smile, hoping he would forgive me for my rudeness. "I really hope dinner is still an option. If it isn't, I understand. And I'm sorry." The glazed look disappeared, replaced with relief. "Yes, of course. Come to think of it, it's my fault to begin with. Forcing you to cover for me," he laughed, and his eyes sparkled. "I'll tell you what, since it's your first day in London, I'm sure you have a lot to do. Sightseeing and all that. I've got a few things to do, so would it be okay it I sent for you later? I'll let you know where to meet me for dinner." He smiled, holding his hand out. I shook it, this time the electric flash felt hotter than before. "Sure. I hope your owl can find me."

Later that day, I was sitting at a tiny coffee shop, my face buried in the "Daily Prophet", searching for vacant apartments. There were several listings, well within my price range. Two looked rather seedy, situated near Knockturn Alley. I had passed that part of Diagon Alley earlier. Absolutely not. The fourth one looked promising. I closed my eyes, willing myself to the address. _Pop!_ I opened my eyes, and saw the most beautiful house staring back at me. It was Victorian, butterscotch in color, with two turrets, several wide bay windows and, as I peered around back, a small garden. It was perfect. I walked, no, _ran_, up the cobblestone walk, desperately wishing there was still a vacancy. Who would want to leave this place? I knocked on the oak door, the wooden grain buffed so handsomely it felt like silk under my fingers. A tiny witch, he white hair pulled into a soft knot at the nape of her neck, wearing deep purple and green robes, opened the door a few moments later. "Are you here for the apartment?" she wheezed, quite loudly, leaning heavily on her cane. "My son has just finished renovating it. Please, come in." She led me up two flights of steps, fumbled for a key and opened the door, smiling gently. My heart fluttered in my chest. This was it. It was perfect. I stepped inside; beams of light danced their way across the wide, open room. Both turrets. Two reading windows. A nook. And the kitchen. Just being in the space said "home". The witch shuffled in, her son close behind her. "Do you like it?" she asked, her voice echoed throughout the apartment, bouncing off the honey colored floors and pale walls. "I love it," I breathed. I turned to her, slowly, tears almost building in my eyes. "It's wonderful. I'll take it today. Oh please, tell me it's available." She and the son exchanged smiles. His hard work had paid off. He was a master crafter; enlargement charms over the entire surface, the brick fireplace in the kitchen ready for Floo Network, the cozy bedroom off to the side. The little witch placed the silver key gently into my hands. "It's yours. I had hoped I could find someone who would love it as much as we do. Now, I'll leave you to your things; please don't hesitate to stop by if you need anything. I am the first floor, and my son and his wife are the second. Welcome home."

After much deliberation and many deliveries, I was unpacked, set up and settling in to a good book with a cup of tea. Halfway through the fourth chapter of my book, the clock chimed eight, and there was a soft tapping on the window next to me. Slightly startled, I turned, coming face to face with a giant barn owl. I opened the window, and it flapped in, hooting softly, parchment tied to its leg. Placing a Knut into the pouch, watched as it flew away before I opened the letter to read:

_"Ava, meet me at Filop's as soon as you get this. -Harry."_

I smiled, tucking the scrap of paper into my jean pocket, and closed my eyes. The familiar _pop! _again, and there he was, waiting, "Hi." he said, smiling at me, walking over to where I had arrived. "Where are we going for dinner?" His eyes sparkled, surprise dancing on his face. "One of the best places in London, I promise," he said, reaching for my hand. I took it. Again with the electricity. We careened down Diagon Alley, laughing as we dodged the last of the straggling shoppers, skirting muddy puddles until we had arrived at a large apartment complex. I whistled, staring up at the massive building. Fourteen floors high. I looked at him, surprised. His house? What was going on? Did he live on top of a four star eating establishment? He grinned widely, my puzzled face amused him. His grin was devilish. Captivating. It made his eyes liquid emerald. Seeing made my heart skip a few beats. He pulled me gently, leading me up the stairs, two at a time, until we had arrived at the top floor. "Best eatery in London," he whispered, opening the iron door.

Inside the door, a warm fire greeted me. The richness of the apartment startled me. Everything was deep, warm tones, thrumming with comfort. Soft couches along the walls, photographs strewn along every surface, so many books crammed into the one bookcase along the far wall. It was wonderful. And he, Harry Potter, was sharing it with me. "Close your eyes," he said, leading me to the couch. I did, and when I opened them several seconds later, the balcony doors had been opened, and a simple setup unfolded before my eyes; a small bistro table with two chairs, a few candles magicked in the air, and two covered plates, waiting. "Well?" he pulled a chair out for me, and I walked over, slightly dazed. Surely this wasn't real. He sat across from me, poured a drink into a glass and uncovered my plate. My giggle turned into a roar of laughter. On the plate there was a note which read "I owe you one very real dinner in the near future." "Harry, this is adorable. Surely you do this with every girl?" He grinned wickedly. "I most certainly do not do this with every girl. Just one girl. You." He reached out to touch my hand. More electricity. "This may sound stupid, and I'm probably making a huge prat of myself by saying this but thank you. Thank you Ava for trusting me enough to come here, thank you for not treating me like some sort of hero. You've treated me normally. You have my undying gratitude." He lifted my hand and gave it a small, gentle kiss. It was like lightning. "I don't know what it is about you," he continued, still holding my hand, "but you make me feel happy. And for just meeting you this morning, that's saying a lot." I didn't know what to say, I just sat there, absorbing him, every detail of the evening, every word he spoke. Finally, I managed "Fate." He smiled broadly, raising his glass to me. I did to the same. "To Fate," he mused, "let's see where we go from here."

_A/N Sorry for all the trouble, I'm still trying to get the hang of adding chapters! Hope it was worth it. :)_


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